


loving your work, cowboy

by HalfAnachronism



Series: Napollya [1]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: M/M, just two nerds flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:14:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4569297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfAnachronism/pseuds/HalfAnachronism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was internally writing this as I watched watched the movie tbh</p><p>Russian translation (by Jessie_jameson) is here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/3502408</p>
    </blockquote>





	loving your work, cowboy

**Author's Note:**

> I was internally writing this as I watched watched the movie tbh
> 
> Russian translation (by Jessie_jameson) is here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/3502408

“So,” Napoleon started, pouring himself more scotch. Gaby had left half an hour ago, leaving the two men alone on the balcony of the hotel room. “You had the chance to kill me. You had many chances, actually.”

Illya took a sip from his glass. “Yes. I was told to do so.”

“But you didn’t.” Napoleon looked up. “You could’ve shot me the moment you walked into my hotel, but you didn’t.”

“And you could’ve shot me that very same moment, Solo. What are you getting at?”

“Please, call me Napoleon,” Napoleon smirked, staring the other man down in a playful manner. He walked around the small table that was in between them, coming to stand directly in front of Illya. “And what I’m getting at is that there’s something in you that made you want to keep me alive. A conscience, maybe?”

Napoleon swallowed his scotch as Illya grimaced. “What? Do you expect me to admit that I’m _madly in love_ with you, and that I just couldn’t bare to watch you die even though it was my duty?”

“Well, I _was_ feelin’ a little somethin’.” Napoleon teased.

Illya responded stoically, not looking the other man in the eye: “Well, I might ask you the same question but regarding the incident with the truck and the water.” This topic of conversation, the idea that he had emotions, was making Illya uncomfortable. He felt a strong urge to punch the smile off Solo’s face, his fingers twitching slightly.

“I was just doing my duty and saving my partner. You, however, disobeyed your duty in order to keep me alive.” Napoleon took a half-step forward.

Illya stirred at the word _partner._ He didn’t like the idea that he was _partners_ with this American, this cowboy, this fool who dared question his choices.

“And you disobeyed yours,” he replied, staring intensely at the shorter man, “But you haven’t killed me yet. How do I know you aren’t about to do your job? How do I know you’re not about to push me off this balcony?”

“You don’t know, I guess.”

“Then how do you know that I’m not about to stab you in the gut?”

“Because, Illya,” Napoleon said calmly, leaning forward, his eyes not leaving Illya’s face as he placed his glass on the table. “We’re partners now.”

Illya couldn’t help but notice Napoleon’s piercing gaze flickering to his lips. The space in between the table and the balcony rail that Illya was leaning against was small enough, and was growing smaller as Napoleon inched closer and closer.

“What do you want from me?” Illya’s voice sounded weaker than he intended, as if he was scared. He was, in fact, he was terrified, terrified of the beautiful man in front of him whose gaze not only made him feel naked but made him want to be, terrified of the people below the balcony who could so easily see them.

“Nothing,” Napoleon said. “Well, maybe your lips. And your arms. And that ass of yours.”

Illya joked, “You sure know how to charm a man.” He could feel Napoleon’s breath now, warm on his jaw.

“Maybe I should thank you,” Napoleon replied, his voice now a whisper. “For not killing me.”

“And I should thank you for the same reason.”

“Looks like there’s a lot of thanking to be done, eh?” Napoleon teased, just before closing the gap between them.

Illya’s body immediately relaxed as their lips met. His arm instinctively wrapped around Napoleon’s body, pulling their torsos together. Illya was the first to part his lips, an invitation for Napoleon to deepen the kiss.

Napoleon suddenly pulled his face away. He whispered, “Maybe we should move this indoors.”

“Agreed.”


End file.
